


Sacrifice

by blue_jack



Category: Supernatural
Genre: God!dean, Human!Castiel - Freeform, M/M, Non-Consensual, Tentacle Rape, bottom!Castiel, kracken!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 16:13:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3575712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_jack/pseuds/blue_jack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel walks into the water, his expression as blank as he can make it. Every three years they offer up a sacrifice to the god, someone strong of body and comely of face, because to offer anything but the most pleasing would be sacrilege. It is Castiel’s luck that this time, he has been chosen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [carrionofmywaywardson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrionofmywaywardson/gifts).



> This was a birthday present for carrionofmywaywardson on tumblr. Not beta'd. Edited since then slightly but not by much. 
> 
> Yup, this is how I enter the fandom. *waves*

Castiel walks into the water, his expression as blank as he can make it. Every three years they offer up a sacrifice to the god, someone strong of body and comely of face, because to offer anything but the most pleasing would be sacrilege. It is Castiel’s luck that this time, he has been chosen.

It is an honor, they say.

It will bring blessings upon his family, they say.

 _It is his life_ , he thinks and has to close his eyes for a second, remembering Anna’s attempt years ago to take a knife to his cheek. 

“It’s only because I love him!” she’d cried to Michael when he’d walked in on them, Castiel screaming underneath her.

Anna had been sent away, and he’d always been afraid of his sister since then, avoiding her during her infrequent visits home, but now he finally understands.

Castiel lifts his chin, ignoring the way the water turns the white shift he’s wearing translucent. He refuses to shame himself by being one of the sacrifices that must be dragged, screaming and weeping, to the Altar. Pride has always been his biggest sin, but it is all that he has now.

He ignores the guards at his sides and steps into the cage, closing the door himself, the hollow clang loud enough that for a second, it drowns out the sound of the chanting.

Castiel doesn’t look away when the first black tentacle emerges, seeming to block the sun itself with its size. He watches as another breaks the water’s surface, and then another, listening vaguely to the chanting that is rising to a frenzy as the ocean roils, but he doesn’t falter until his cage is lifted up and he falls to his knees with its wild swinging.

On his knees before the god. It’s fitting, he supposes.

He shudders when the cage plunges into the frigid water, but he only closes his eyes when the water reaches his chin, and he takes one last desperate gasp of air, hands tightening on the bars until they ache with the strain, and then the cage and the god are gone.

\-----

The first words Castiel hears when he wakes up are, “You are a pretty one, aren’t you?”

It takes a long time before Castiel understands what’s being said to him, even longer before he realizes why it’s strange that he’s hearing anything at all.

He opens his eyes and sees the god’s face above him, massive and intimidating and so, so close, and he can’t help himself, flinching back.

Onto an rippling bed of tentacles.

Castiel knows what the god looks like, he knows, but knowing is different from feeling rubbery flesh sliding against his skin, cold and somehow slick, suckers catching and pulling off in sickening jerks, and he opens his mouth to scream, scrambling backwards—

He chokes instead as a tentacle fills his mouth, his throat, and his body spasms as more tentacles wrap around him, and the god pins him in place.

 _Very pretty_ , the god says approvingly, and it’s a miracle that Castiel notices the god’s lips don’t move with the way he’s writhing, trying to breathe, to yank free—but then, the god’s face is all he can see, too beautiful to be anything but divine. His eyes are the exact color of the holy pool in the Temple, a deep, fathomless green that flickers with golds and browns that tempt pilgrims to reach out—but it is said that to fall into the pool is to never come out, no matter how good the swimmer, and staring up into the god’s eyes, Castiel believes.

 _I don’t like the screaming_ , the god says, the tip of one tentacle sliding down Castiel’s chest, and he shivers but doesn’t try to fight him. He lies quiescent, no longer panicking, which must be an effect of the god’s gaze, but he accepts it nonetheless. Struggling had gotten him nowhere. He must keep his thoughts about him.

 _I apologize for overreacting_ , he thinks, wondering if the god can hear him, and calm, he must remain calm. _I won’t scream_ , he promises, his throat flexing around the god helplessly.

The god tilts his head, but after a few nerve-wracking seconds, he slides the tentacle from Castiel’s mouth.

Castiel coughs and forces himself to swallow the thick saliva that trails after the tentacle—it tastes like brine—and breathes heavily. “Thank you,” he finally manages to get out.

 _You always scream_ , the god says, frowning.

“I don’t—” Castiel begins to say, because what does that mean? What is the god saying?

 _All of you. My wives_. The tentacle drifts lower, and Castiel twitches, but he’s learned his lesson, and he doesn’t otherwise move. 

His wives. Surely the god doesn’t—

 _So pretty_ , the god says again, and Castiel feels his legs drawn apart.

“No!” he gasps, and he tells himself to be calm, holds onto his composure with the last of his control. “Please, wait!”

The god listens, one tentacle moving restlessly between Castiel’s legs, touching him all over but nothing more, and Castiel can feel tears starting to well in his eyes. This can’t be happening.

 _What?_ the god says, and Castiel can hear the first signs of temper.

“I’m not—” He can’t think. “Please don’t—”

He lied. He does scream when the god enters him, huge and implacable, but it’s quickly cut off when the tentacle returns to his mouth. It doesn’t choke him this time, although it doubles up on itself, forcing his jaw open, so he can only make weak, muffled groans around it’s bulk as the other tentacle goes deeper and deeper.

He doesn’t feel the nauseating pain that would indicate he’s torn and bleeding, just an intense burning as the god stretches him past anything he’s done before. It seems like it goes on forever, the god hollowing out a place for himself in Castiel’s body, and he thinks he may shake apart, tears streaming from his eyes in an endless flow.

The god watches all of this curiously, but he doesn’t say anything until the tentacle finally stops, Castiel stretched impossibly wide, stuttering little whines falling from his throat.

 _Very good,_ the god says at last, green eyes sparkling, and Castiel _shrieks_ as the tentacle begins to move, not thrusting as he’d imagined they would but lashing inside of him and bringing with it such overwhelming pleasure that he doesn’t know how he doesn’t black out from it.

He orgasms before he even understands what’s happening, and it’s terrifying, the pleasure almost too painful to bear, and it doesn’t stop, it doesn’t stop, it doesn’t stop.

 _Castiel_ , the god croons as more tentacles cover him, and the suckers that he’d found so disturbing when he’d woken up, latch onto his nipples, his cock, and they force another orgasm from him, and another, until he’s sobbing and pleading in his mind for mercy, his body undulating with the movements of the tentacle inside of him.

 _You will be my favorite_ , the god says, smiling, just as another tentacle moves between Castiel’s legs, and it’s too much. It’s too much.

The next time he wakes up, he’s covered in red, circular marks, and it hurts to even move. He lets out a pained whimper when he tries to shift his legs, the empty place within him throbbing and aching to be filled.

The god makes a pleased sound, and Castiel cringes, his heart racing, his cock filling with blood even as he hunches over and tries to hide it.

There is no hiding from the god, however, and Castiel starts to tremble as he’s lifted, his legs already parting helplessly.

 _My favorite_ , the god says, and he doesn’t need to hold Castiel down this time as he pushes into him with two tentacles at once, Castiel moaning uncontrollably with an obscene satisfaction. It still burns, but he wants it, pain and all.

What’s happening to him? What has the god done to him?

 _Soon, you will be able to take all of me,_ the god says, and Castiel gets an image of something dark and monstrous, writhing between his tentacles, and Castiel cries out in fear while his cock spurts precome and his body welcomes the god in deeper.

He has to—there must be some way to stop this. Something he can do. Someone who can help him.

“Where—where are your other wives?” he gasps, back arching as the god settles into place, the beginning of his first orgasm already building.

Curls of black start unwinding through green eyes, like ink seeping across a page, and the god smiles.


End file.
